Tag Archives: #funnyblog

As a woman, I can tell you that being a stay-at-home mom is a wonderful and rewarding job. However, it isn’t without pitfalls. Cook, clean, and wipe butt? Sign me up, I’m in. Men, don’t judge. There is a reason why I can’t talk about being a stay-at-home dad. Yet I’m sure the experience is quite similar. Also, ladies, please don’t judge. No matter how much you decide to work “outside of the home”, it is complicated. I would just like to stress the point that being a stay-at-home parent is a full time job, without outside pay.

Decisions, decisions. Do the math. Can the family be supported on one income? Now do the mental. Can you cope? My husband (the old, bald guy) and I opted for the scrape by method, and since we were just starting out, we decided he would be the crumb winner. That allowed me to be a stay-at-home mom for about ten years. Would I take it back? Absolutely not. Were there hardships? Absolutely yes.

It turns out that raising children is very difficult. At times you may feel like a sleep deprived zombie with a shrunken brain. Oh, the ups and downs. But, who doesn’t love a good roller coaster ride? I actually learned a few tricks along the way. Let’s review.

Up: Home cooked meals and Garanimals!

Down: Arguing over which color cup you chose to use and how much milk you poured into it.

Fix: Compromise – change the dang cup to your child’s preference, transfer milk from Cup A to Cup B and tip milk carton as if pouring more milk, but leave the cap on – your child will feel smug, and so will you.

Up: Being there for every single crucial moment in your child’s life. First roll onto back, first sit up, first noise/word, first crawl, first steps. . .

Down: The sheer difficulty of trying to make it to the grocery store in between naps, feedings and diaper changes. Just when you think you might have an hour, nope, rethink plan, and hope there will be another window of opportunity, maybe today.

Fix: Wait. All good things come in time.

Up: Things to do for free – my favorites were parks and the library.

Down: Having accidents (of both kinds) at parks and the library.

Fix: I got nothing here. Oh wait – don’t take your kids anywhere, ever, and then this will only happen at home.

Up: The excitement of experiencing everything for the first time all over again from spiders to rainbows.

Down: The power of an instant lobotomy like headache resulting from an inhumanly and inhumane high screech made from your young child, perhaps after seeing a spider.

Fix: Ibuprofen.

Up: Volunteering at school and seeing the gleam in your child’s eye when they see how proud you are of him, and you can tell how proud he is to have special moments be witnessed by you.

Down: Feeling guilty about missing something exciting at school – a play, a spelling bee, etc.

Fix: There is none – you will feel guilty about something to do with your child(ren) for the rest of your life.

Up: Being there to explain everything to your child, especially the why.

Down: Your most intellectual discussion of the day probably had something to do with Dr. Seuss.

Fix: Encourage your child to read. Explain this to him or her: “The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.” (Yes, Dr. Seuss).

Up: Being so happy that hubby is home to relieve you of your duties if only for a little bit, because he realizes that you have been on high alert ALL day as there is no such thing as childproofing, you have dealt with numerous disgusting substances, you haven’t had any adult contact or highly stimulating conversation, you have “worked” all day- we’re talking going to the bathroom with the door open or something terrible could happen to the children no-break kind of day.

Down: Realizing that hubby is not sympathetic to your cause because he has also worked all day, even though he was able to have some meaningful conversations, feel productive, solve complex problems, make money, and go to the bathroom with the door closed without fear of immediate harm to his young children.

Fix: Don’t worry, that last rant resolves on its own as the children grow older.

To be super fair, if I were to rewrite the last “Up” bullet point from my husband’s point of view, it might read as follows: Being so happy to come home to a home cooked meal after having worked all day, including plunging clogged toilets, clearing sewage lines, and dealing with difficult customers, knowing all the while that this hard work has allowed for my loving, caring, appreciate wife to be able to stay at home with the children.

In summary, enjoy the ups and cope with the downs. Just remember you are in charge of each and every wonderful new day in molding the mind of your little human being. “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go…” (Dr. Seuss).

Wendy Knuth is the author of Moore Zombies picture books and chapter books for children. One of her characters is a stay-at-home Mombie zombie named Mombie Moore.

Everyone has heard the adage of buying presents for children only to find out they prefer the box. Well, from experience, it is true. So today, my good friends, I am here to tell you about one of the most cherished gifts your child will get from you: An item to bond with, to sleep with, a source of comfort, homemade with love. Yes, you will beam with pride when other parents ask you, “Where did you buy that?”

From me to you: Make a pillowcase!

Back in the day, I made a Teletubbies pillowcase for my son. He loved it – he treasured it for a couple of years. My other son was meanwhile enjoying the store bought 101 Dalmations bed set, just so you know he wasn’t neglected.

Go to your local store where materials are sold such as WalMart or JoAnns, and you will find a whole new world of options: Animals of all types (real and cartoony), holiday themed prints, fairies, princesses, flowers, specific sports teams, and copyrighted Disney characters. What did I find for my boys? Dinosaurs and construction equipment galore. Jackpot!

Worried about your sewing skills? Don’t be. I’m not an expert seamstress. Out of all the things one can sew, a pillowcase is probably one of the easiest, even if you don’t have a sewing machine. If your work is not up to par, your child probably won’t notice. But just in case, here is a handy tip from me to you: Don’t sew ALL the edges together or you will be left with a pillowcase malfunction. Handy tip #2 – buy a “travel pillow” – it is the perfect size for a toddler, and you’ll need even less material.

A yard of material is dirt cheap compared to your limited selection of pricey bed sets, and you can almost bank on the idea that toddlers don’t know that bedding should match, and really, why should it? Where is the fun in that? Live a little!

Alternatively, if you are “one of those people” and just can’t function without the matching set, you can take it a step further. I actually made (er, um, yeah) dinosaur blankets. Okay – I didn’t MAKE the blankets. I bought really cheap blankets and then covered one side with dinosaur material and used a plain blue cheapo material on the other side. In retrospect the plain blue material was more difficult to deal with since it was very stretchable. Tip #3: If sewing is not your thing – don’t buy anything too stretchy.

My dinosaur blankets each have a large seam running down the middle because often material is sold in smaller widths than can cover an adult sized blanket – did my kids notice? Nope! However, after a couple of weeks, one son complained of something pointy in the blanket. Oops – it turned out I had sewn in one of the pins I had used to keep the edges together. Tip # 4: (I think you get the point, yuk, yuk.)

That same young man is now an older teenager. Out of the numerous pillowcases I made for him, he still has (in his closet) what is now an old, raggedy pillow with the construction print pillowcase. He is not willing to part with it. It is a keepsake of his. Oh my gosh, how worth it is that?

So pick a print, apply your skills and give the gift of a pillowcase! Tip #5: Don’t forget to include a pillow.

Since you may not always be able to find what you are looking for at your local store, I am including some affiliate links for themed materials that are always available online:

Let me tell you how things finally went down. The old, bald guy had a bad day at work and was kind of grumpy. He actually went grocery shopping. While he was away, our boys & I ordered pizza. I removed the cake which I had hidden in the refrigerator, unwrapped the aluminum foil and left it in a pile on the counter. It was a big clue in plain sight. It turns out the boys did know about the cake in the freezer. I must have told them the story long ago.

So yes, there was a small slice missing. One red candle went in the center. I put out two presents. Traditional rules for the 20 year anniversary say I should buy china. More contemporary guidelines say one should buy platinum. So I bought both.

After my initial cake blog, a friend on Facebook sent a “Happy Anniversary” Flintstones clip. It has proven to be problematic in that I can’t get the song out of my head, even days later.

When hubby came home, the boys and I quickly helped out with the groceries, not letting him into the kitchen. Then I waited at the computer until one of my boys said, “Now.” He lit the candle and I pressed play on the music clip where Fred Flintstone and his buddies are singing and Barney is playing a Stoneway piano.

The old, bald guy walked into the kitchen and immediately lit up. He laughed and then said “Where did you get the cake?” I was kind of surprised. Then he said “There’s a slice missing.” He looked a little confused. He was just not getting it. I gave him a weird look, looked at the cake and then at the pile of aluminum foil, and looked back at him without saying a word. He circled around and I saw a sudden look of recognition come over his face.

“Is that what I think it is?!” Yes, I told him. He laughed, and I mean hard, and then he said, “Thank God! We can finally get rid of that thing!” How romantic.

We both thought the cake was in remarkably good form. The icing smelled like icing but when we touched the inside where the slice was missing, it felt really dry, like sand. No, we didn’t eat any.

Hubby enjoyed his presents, the pizza came, and we watched our wedding video. Our teenage boys had never seen it before. Pretty weird to see how young everyone looked, including ourselves, and a lot of people have since passed away. I was feeling sentimental and teary eyed here and there, but that quickly dissipated because boys will be boys and my 3 guys cracked a lot of weird jokes throughout. Again, very romantic.

What happened to the cake? Well, this cake is famous now. I gave it a fresh wrapping of aluminum foil and back into the freezer it went.

The old, bald guy and I are about to celebrate our 20th wedding anniversary!!! The picture of the old ripped and torn aluminum foil wrapped thingy-a-bobby? It is the top tier of our wedding cake, and it has been in our freezer for literally 20 years. Read it again.

We have all heard about how you are supposed to put some of your wedding cake in the freezer and then defrost it for your one year anniversary and actually eat a bite. Yuck. For some reason we reluctantly participated in this tradition. Even if it tastes great, it is very difficult mentally to cope with the one year old part. Who came up with this silly tradition? Perhaps it is an early test of the “in sickness or in health” part of your marriage vows with regards to food poisoning.

Let’s move on to mental health. Where or how is mine? For some odd reason, the cake went back into the freezer and became a point of nostalgia for me. Years passed and my hubby would occasionally ask me when can we get rid of this cake? We’re never going to it eat. Well, true. But it would be like throwing away a piece of our history. I can’t say that we argued about it but I think he saw that it would make me sad. He gave up asking quite some time ago. I think he came to terms with the fact that as long as I am alive, this cake will be in the freezer. Honestly, if he had thrown it away without my knowledge for the greater part of the last decade, I probably wouldn’t have noticed. But, don’t tell him that.

So there I am, trying to think of some unique gift for our 20 year anniversary and I suddenly remember – the cake!!!! I’m going to defrost and put it on the table next to his real presents. I think he and our kids will get a kick out of it. I’m pretty sure our boys don’t even know what that ragged aluminum foil wrapped thing is that has been in the freezer for their entire lives. I’m not sure if they have ever heard the story behind it. Don’t worry – the old, bald guy is not into social media so he won’t see this post until post anniversary.

There is only one problem. I will be setting myself up for disaster. I imagine that after a fun evening and some giggling about the ridiculousness of it all, my hubby will probably ask if we can finally throw the cake away. It’s a dilemma. We’ll just see how things go. . .

Oh my Gombie, how I hate taxes!!! The old bald guy and I own a small personal business which means that we have to pay self employment taxes. That means we get the privilege of paying taxes twice.

For all of you working zombies out there that roll your eyes in disgust at the chunk that went missing from your paycheck – we all know that really sucks. But I’ll tell you something that sucks even more. Imagine taking out your checkbook and writing a check to the government every three months. That really, really sucks.

If you have a “normal” job, your employer pays for your social security (ouch for them), and then the government also sucks your paycheck dry for your portion of social security (ouch for you.) That is double suckage. When you own a small business you have to pay twice, once for yourself as a business owner, and once for yourself as an employee – basically double ouch.

Okay fine. The rules are the rules. So, we have to hire an accountant to figure out how much suckage we have to pay to the government. We have no clue what said accountant is doing except that we end up with literally a book full of pages, forms, subforms and schedules as evidence that the job has been done. At the end of it all we are grateful and give our thanks to the government for making us pay hundreds of dollars to figure out how many thousands of dollars we owe.

So here’s my thinking. The accountant payment is a kind of a tax. Why don’t we propose new legislation? Any fees paid to accountants should be a direct deduction from the amount owed to the feds. Not only could we stand up to the feds and punish them for making us go through this yearly anguish, but it also provides an incentive for them to make it less complicated. The public will love it, and the accountants will love it. It might even create some new loopholes – and isn’t that what taxes are all about? That’s my two cents, folks.

The old bad guy and I had this dog named Agnes. She was a short haired, brown something or other that we got from the local humane society. When she was really worked up, her hairline that ran down the middle of her back would raise up, but backwards. She was the friendliest dog ever, but she was also very intimidating if you were on the other side of the fence. We got a lot of great comments on her – personality, personality, personality, Type A.

Agnes was quite often, a pain in the rear. She was definitely an alpha female. So much so, that she would raise her leg to go the bathroom, she wasn’t letting the males have anything on her. I have blogged about her issues with skunks. I almost put something into Big, Bad Wolfbag about skunks but I felt I already had enough material. So then there was the toad thing.

One day, I heard Agnes barking her brains out in the backyard. Yes, she was drooling and foaming at the mouth, just like in the book. I saw this toad on the ground. She was barking at it and almost trying to bite it but you could tell whatever slime substance was on its back was deterring her. We put the poor toad outside of the fence and worried some about Agnes. We have her plenty of water to drink and she turned out just fine.

There was the time when the old, bald guy and I were camping near a lake. We saw this young boy come up over the hill. Agnes’ ears perked up and she looked very alert. The boy saw her and stopped in his tracks. The old bald guy spoke out loud to himself, “Please don’t run”. Of course, the kid turned and ran, and Agnes chased after him. He must have been terrified. Agnes was the kind of dog that would chase after anything that ran away from her, but luckily for humans, she wouldn’t do anything but be playful once she caught up to you. Anyhow, we feared repercussions from angry parents so we packed up, called Agnes who dutifully came back, and we left. A version of this is in the opening chapter of my Wolfbag book, except I changed the boy to a girl.

Another time, we were camping at Lake Pleasant, which is why I decided to include the name of this lake in the book. Agnes loved swimming and we saw her swimming after a bird that looked like it had a broken wing. The closer she got to the bird, the bigger her eyes became. When she got really close, the bird flew away and Agnes turned around and swam back to shore. Before she got out of the water the bird flew back and plopped down near Agnes and swam away again with the appearance of the broken wing. Of course, Agnes turned back around and swam after the bird. We were sure Agnes kept getting too close to this bird’s nest on shore. This literally went on for at least an hour. Yes, this is also in the book. When I did internet searches to find birds that played the broken wing trick, I could only find a certain bird that to my recollection did not look anything like the bird that played this trick on our dog, and that is why the type of bird remains unnamed in the book.

The fishing incident in the book is completely made up and had nothing to do with Agnes. However, there was a time when our other dog, Ed, got tangled in someone’s fishing line as he swam by. That silly angler saw him coming and should have reeled his line in, but instead he watched the whole thing happen and then blamed us for letting our dog tangle his fishing line. Luckily, as Ed kept swimming the line untangled on its own and we didn’t have to unhook him or anything. We were glad because we didn’t want to deal with that dummy anymore anyhow.

I could go on and on about Agnes, and I’m sure in the future I will. Now you know a lot of the events which inspired me came from real life and you can read all about them in my third chapter book called Moore Zombies: Big, Bad Wolfbag.

So there I am watching Peyton Manning’s speech at the end of Superbowl 50 and I am incredibly surprised and greatly amused to hear him talk about how he will be drinking Budweiser that evening. First of all, I think – kaching! (cash register noise here) – he just made at least a million bucks for saying that, right? Secondly I think – why haven’t I seen this act before? It’s brilliant!!

Of course Mr. Manning thanked his teammates, family and God. That is to be expected. I can’t quite recall the order, so one might go back over the footage to amuse him or herself to see where his priorities were. Don’t be fooled, Budweiser as a seemingly priority number one would certainly count in my book as family priority number one bringing home the bacon-wise.

But again, why haven’t I seen this before? Athletes of all kinds wear baseball caps and t-shirts with slogans and logos. NASCAR events have autos with advertising all over their bodies. UFC fighters make a point of quickly putting on a t-shirt and ball cap with company advertising after the fight is over. By the way, I just love how someone realized that the octagon butt is prime real estate for advertising. Very clever!

We have all seen athletes in commercials endorsing this and that. However, there is nothing like a verbal and visual endorsement from a superstar athlete at the peak of his career during a prime time moment. We all know about the “I’m going to Disneyland” statement made post win that is supposed to seem spontaneous. So, why haven’t other companies jumped on this band wagon?

Disneyland is more of a proximity thing. Numerous other items are much more readily available to the average person: soda, candy, snacks, fast food, under wear, clothes, cars & trucks, and yes, alcohol. I got to thinking – there is a lot more money that could be made here.

I now have a clear plan for my life. First, I become a super athlete. I work and toil for years while making several mil along the way. Second, after years of hard work, I win a huge athletic event in which I will most certainly be interviewed after the fact. And now comes the best part. Third, during what is probably going to end up being my retirement speech, I earn an additional 50 million cool dollars in verbal endorsements over the course of a few sentences. Wish me luck. Kaching!

I bought a Christmas tree. I placed it in the holder all by myself, and low and behold I could not get it straight. More importantly, I couldn’t get it steady. Perhaps older teenage boy that I purchased the tree from at the local grocery store did not cut the bottom correctly. I broke out the old camp saw and cut it again myself. If you want something done right. . . Long story short, the tree is still leaning, and still loose. It could fall over at any time. I may have uttered a few bad words.

So let’s reframe the situation. Instead of admitting defeat, I will name this year’s tree: The Leaning Tower of Tree. It is much easier to cope with the situation, and much more fun. I have to admit, I did think about strapping the tree to the wall with plumber’s tape. Have I mentioned that my husband, the old bald guy, is a plumber? The layperson might imagine that plumbers tape actually has a sticky side. No, it is a thin sheet metal strap with which you use screws to secure things to a wall or stud, such as a water heater in an earthquake prone environment. No, it is much more fun to deal with said tree in its current condition. It is what it is.

Thinking back to previous years, I recall the year of two trees. The kids couldn’t agree on which tree to buy, and of course they each favored a different one. Luckily I could afford and we bought them both. Then there was the year of “The tree of poverty.” I believe it was 2008 or 2009 when the economy took a terrible turn for the worse. I bought a tiny little table top tree on the cheap, almost Charlie Brown style but not quite as sad. We had a lot of fun making fun of that tree, and the savings made for more money for presents. Boy, how I miss the days of the dollar bin for the plastic airplane or car that the kids loved as much as they would love a brand new computer nowadays.

So buy a tree, or don’t. Draw a tree on cardboard and stand it up against the wall. Put together cutout hand prints of your children, tape them together, and tape it to the wall. Don’t be sad about it. Set the mood and make it fun! Oh, and don’t forget to name your tree.

I blogged a pinch about this last year, but this is a much more in depth blog about the boo subject. Here goes:

Every time I see a contest for a Thanksgiving story, I think of my grandmother who has long since passed away. My family has an interesting tradition that stems from a Thanksgiving dinner many, many years ago. We say “boo” after a good meal. A good meal means that someone actually put some effort into cooking. One might say “boo” after a meal they did not enjoy in a show of respect for the chef, however, one would certainly not say “boo” after a fast food meal. Back in the day, there was no such thing as fast food as far as today’s meaning of the phrase.

The tradition started before I was born. I have heard the origination story so many times that I feel as if I were there. I was not. Now that I think about, I have only ever heard the story from my mother’s perspective. Yet, I was there for meals with my grandmother and family when we all said “boo” afterwards. Only now do I wish I had heard perhaps a truer, closer to the source version from my grandmother’s own mouth.

I wrote a wonderful piece on the subject from my grandmother’s point of view. Envision the daily life of a young mother in the 1950’s and all the differences between then and now, and all the similarities between then and now. I can picture my mother as a young child at the time, who could not even fathom her own grandchildren as she knows them today who live to carry on this tradition, much in the same way that my children can’t hardly imagine their own children yet to come, let alone grandchildren who perhaps will say “boo” one day after a home cooked meal, maybe a Thanksgiving meal.

As I introduce you to the slightly more dramatic version of this tale, I hope you think of your family’s past, present, and future, and revel in your own family traditions! Happy Thanksgiving and enjoy. . .

Listen To What I Hear

Pay attention. Listen to what I hear. I took pride in my craft. I slaved all day with no help, no offers of help. I expressed my affection through my work. My loved ones gathered around, and took part in this, the most intimate of family traditions, a holiday known most for family gatherings and for a day of thanks. No compliments were heard, no thanks, no giving on anyone’s part but mine. I was waiting, just waiting for even the smallest something.

As the last family member left the table, save for myself, I knew it wasn’t going to happen. I was ired by their rudeness. I heard a voice coming from myself expressing in a disappointed and loud voice the same words I was feeling: “I worked hard all day for this fine meal before you and no one even said boo!”

My family was just as shocked by my reaction as I was by their non-reaction. The children eyed each other, eyed me, and then eyed their father nervously. My husband, at first, looked surprised. His perplexed expression relaxed, and slowly turned to adorement. A faint smile slowly crept upon his face. He then said “boo” in the nicest, most loving way. My children giggled in the moment and also said “boo”, each in turn.

It was the smallest something. But really it was greater than that. From resentment and compassion was born this family tradition: A gift of folklore to the family, from the family, for the family. My legacy? Perhaps. I am no longer here, and yet, this old soul lives on. Boo. It is what you would expect this old ghost to say, but it is what I hear.

Tonight I reminisce. I would like to tell you about the fun & scary game that somehow just came to be. It became a favorite Halloween tradition for our family. Spooky Time.

When my children were very young, I liked to set the mood for whatever holiday was present. I just happened to be shopping for Christmas items at a craft store when I noticed a 90% off deal for Halloween items. Lucky me. I bought numerous, numerous candle holders at 10 cents apiece. Skulls, jack-o-lanterns, ghosts, etc.

So come next Halloween, I put them on display. I also wanted to play some Halloween music, and all I could find was CD’s with songs such as The Purple People Eater. I used to light the candles in the spooky looking candle holders, as well as in the jack-o-lanterns we had carved. I would play the fun music and the kids would run around.

We turned out the lights so we could see how spooky the carved pumpkins and ghosts looked. Then we decided to play hide-n-seek. There were numerous candles everywhere so that every room was very well lit. We even left some of the lights on, but dimmed them. My boys were so cute. They would go to their bedroom for one minute to give us time to hide. Then, they would come out with big eyes, fake swords and plastic armor.

As the kids grew, I had to find scarier music. So I went online and found some great clips that I downloaded and put on CD’s: Werewolf howls, theme music from The Exorcist, theme music from the Halloween movies, music with people screaming on occasion, maniacal clown house music, the dreaded string sounds that you usually hear when someone is being attacked in a movie, etc.

The years continued to pass and we had to have less and less light as hiders were more easily found. By this time, the REALLY scary music was blasting, and the neighbor children came over for this great, fun, scary, Spooky Time. Sometimes the kids would hide with adults being the seekers, other times vice-versa. We discovered throwing items at or near a seeker could throw them off, and there was a lot of moving around so that hiders could go to a place where the seeker had already checked, leaving the seeker to believe no one was hiding there. One thing was very apparent – the jump scare never gets old!

Fast forward a couple of years. The lights were almost none existent. The music still blared on. So, yes, injuries started to occur. Hiders and seekers would run into each other. One night, I heard “Wendy, I’m bleeding!” We turned on the lights and our neighbor had a split in the center of his forehead. How very Halloween to have blood dripping down all over his face and onto the carpet. I thought he had crawled into an outside wall corner but it turns out he had just run straight into the flat surface of the wall. Head wounds bleed, um, a lot.

Boys and men are so funny. As my husband and I were working on the boy’s wound, my husband told him that someday women would be impressed with his scar, but that he needed a better story. Apparently, running into a wall doesn’t excite the ladies. All of the boys got to work. I was amazed by all of their fantastic stories as to how our neighbor had now suffered this injury. Great imaginations!

Being the only female present, I found it very interesting that there was no screaming or crying, but almost a proudness, a rite of passage if you will. I’m sure if some young girl had split her head open things would have been quite different.

I don’t think that was the last year of Spooky Time. I believe the next year the kids wore their karate gear, including headgear. We may have even gone one more year. But it was pretty much the end of an era. And that is why I reminisce. It was a lot of fun. Go ahead and give it a try, just remember to leave some lights on.

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